All the Wicked Little Things
by Linda Atkinson
Summary: In Las Vegas a coven of Cybele worshipers bring John Winchester and his sons, along with Bobby Singer to investigate several murders. Slash John/Bobby. Gil/Nick. If you don't like M/M relationships don't read. If you do don't come crying to me.
1. Chapter 1

All the Wicked Little Things

Fandom: Supernatural/CSI X-over

Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer Gil Grissom, Jim Brass, Katherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, David Phillips, OCs, (John/Bobby, Sam/Dean, Gil/Nick, John/OFCs (rape) Nick/OFCs (rape)

Ratings: FRAO

Warnings: M/M sex, bondage, rape, violence.

***Note***This is a dark fic, it contains angst, violence and young adolescent girls engaged in the sexual torture and rape of several adult men, including one girl raping her own father.

Thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta and great suggestions on the story.

Las Vegas, Nevada

December 27, 2007

A man staggered to the sliding glass door of the apartment building he lived in with this wife and three daughters. At least he was certain that he had three daughters, but the memories seemed far away, hard to draw upon and he winced when a face floated to the surface. Stepping out onto the balcony he paused turning toward the apartment and the soft sounds of laughter from inside. The face floated before his eyes, the face of a little girl, happy, smiling.

_"Daddy," she cooed holding a plastic horse aloft. "Guess what I named my pony. Guess Daddy, come on… guess Daddy."_

He remembered laughing at her insistence, then shivered at the memory of holding her in his arms, small face pressed close to his neck. He cringed feeling the slick glide of skin on skin, of small delicate fingers dancing over his flesh. With a muffled shout the man stumbled forward retching as his stomach rebelled against the flood of memories that the images produced…

//"It's okay Daddy, Shhhhh, just be still. We don't want to hurt you Daddy. We just need you to go to sleep okay."

His head lolled against the arm of the couch and he knew that something was wrong. He never fell asleep in the daytime. Carol's friends were gathered around the sofa staring at him with soft doe-like eyes and that made him even more uncomfortable. Why were the girls all gathered around? Why couldn't he wake up?

Suddenly one of the girls stepped forward with a smile on her face. The expression chilled him to the bone. Tousling his hair Carol patted his head. "It's okay Daddy. Just relax. We don't want to hurt you."

There was a frisson of energy that ran through the collected girls as Carol petted her father. The tallest of the group eased forward and bent down, letting her lips brush over the man's cheek.

"Shhhhh, its okay. You'll feel better in just a little bit. We need to get him down to the basement, so one of you go ahead and make sure that no one is in the hallway. Joan you go hold the elevator. Mr. Parker…you need to stand up for me. There's a gas leak we need to get out of the apartment."

The man frowned rolling forward feeling the room tilt at a sharp angle as he tried, unsteadily, to rise to his feet. Finally, with Carol's and the tall girl's help he managed to get this feet beneath him. Staggering under his weight the two girls managed to help the man out of the room and into the corridor of the building. The man tried to turn toward the stairs but the girls crowded around ushering him to the elevator. He tried to object.

"That's the service car; it just goes to the basement for cargo. We can't…"

"It's okay Daddy," Carol said quickly. "You need to check the gas lines."

He tried to stop but they moved him along, "We need to call the fire department."

"We will Daddy," she giggled. The girls urged him on, kept him moving. Finally they reached the doors to the elevator held open by yet another of the girls. He flinched as the padded doors closed and he pitched forward as his feet went numb. Swallowing he turned.

"Carol, you need to get Mommy…I don't feel well."

"It's okay, Daddy. Mommy doesn't need to know. Just come on, it's just a little bit farther. We'll take care of you Daddy. We all will take care of you."

The man frowned shaking his head. But his little girl took his hand, folding his big callused fingers in her small delicate ones. She tugged and he followed confused as the elevator fell away and the cold, dank cement walls of the basement closed in on him. Far in the back of the dim foul smelling room he could see the soft sparkle of candle light. Carol jerked forward excited by the warm incandescent glow.

They stumbled to a halt in the far rear corner of the room. The floor had been cleared of debris and dirt, scrubbed until the original tile stood out in sharp relief against the grime coated surrounding floor. A large sigil was painted on the white marbleized tile, some intricate design that the man was not familiar with; even though he knew his daughter had a book with similar images printed on it. Around the sigil was a large circle painted in red of smaller symbols that seemed to follow a pattern. Between the symbols were four small black circles each surrounding a candle encased in a red glass holder. These the man realized marked the compass points.

The girls hustled the man forward, pressing in on him, pushing him to the floor. He settled on the drawing with a grunt watching mutely as the girls pulled ropes strung from eyehooks driven into the cement block walls. Frowning he glanced at the crates sheltering the corner from the rest of the basement. His toolkit was nestled on one of the rough wooden crates and he coughed trying to pull his tattered mental resources together.

"Hey, you did take my tools." he said dumbly. Carol patted his head again, stroking her fingers through the thick, dark brown curls.

"I'm sorry Daddy. But we need your help."

"You should have asked me baby; it's not nice to take other people's things without asking. I could have drilled those holes for you."

Giggling Carol shook her head. "That's not what we need your help with, Daddy."

The girls smiled then stepped back while the tallest girl checked the ropes binding the man's hands and feet. They were taut, secured and he struggled briefly. Suddenly he moaned.

"Carol, Daddy doesn't feel good. Go get Mommy, honey."

"Not right now."

The girls stepped back, pulling silky robes out of one of the crates. Quickly the girls began stripping off their clothes, pulling the robes over their heads. Dressed in the pale saffron colored robes the girls formed a circle around the man's prone form. Carol picked up the book she had gotten from the funny old bookstore on the strip, and began reading a passage. Her voice was firm, smooth and gained strength as she intoned the prayer. The girls responded to each line as Carol spoke the invocation.

Her father moaned again struggling briefly against the ropes binding him. The tall girl broke from the circle stepping forward her face still. Cocking her head she reached out stroking her fingers over the man's cheek, brushing her fingertips over his lips. He turned his face away and she slapped him hard, the sound echoing in the darkened room. Carol frowned.

"Bernice, you said we wouldn't hurt him. We just need him for the ceremony. He's the first and he sets the tone for all the others. We don't know how many we'll need for all of us."

Bernice tossed her head back, "The goddess demands his seed. Each of us must try to fulfill the prophecy so that She can be born again. Since he's your father you have first rights with him. Do you know what to do?"

Carol sneered, "Of course. I read the book."

Turning she motioned one of the other girls over. "Did you bring the drug?"

Nodding the girl retreated to one of the crates then produced a small bag. Carefully she carried it back to Bernice. "Your Mom is a nurse; can you give him a shot? You have to do it in his…you know…" she stuttered to a halt. Bernice grabbed the bag pulling out a small vial of liquid and a hypodermic needle.

Dropping to one knee the taller girl looked up, "It's called his penis. I have to inject the drug and we have to wait for a little while. Not long. Help me get his pants pulled down."

Carol eased forward helping the other girl get her father's jeans unzipped then working them over his hips. He was much bigger than the girls, and even through he was not a large man it took them a few minutes to get his hips and groin bared. Bernice carefully inserted the needle into the man's penis, and then sat back on her heels frowning.

"I don't think that I gave him enough, let me do one more." Her hands shaking she took a firm hold on him again, then jumped back when he moaned as the needle sank in. Uttering a shrill nervous giggle she plunged the needle into his flesh once more in a different location, satisfied as the remainder of the drug was dispensed.

Carol sighed looking at her father. She had seen him without his shirt, even in his bagging underwear and a towel around his neck, but never naked. Flushing she looked at Bernice as the other girl offered her a wolfish grin.

"Don't panic, he's out cold. He won't remember anything. It'll feel good to him even if he doesn't know it. But it might hurt at first, especially since you haven't done it before."

Fishing a tube out of her pocket she thrust it at the other girl, "This'll help make it easier. Just do it quick."

Quickly Carol took the lubricant and slicked her father's now erect penis handling him reluctantly although true to Bernice's; words he seemed totally oblivious. When she was done she tossed the tube onto the floor beside him. Carol threw her leg across her father's hips as if she were mounting a horse. An overwhelming sense of wrongness engulfed her and she hesitated.

Casting her glance at Bernice she swallowed hard and rose to her knees. It was like fire burning her from the inside, the pain almost cause Carol to back out, pull away from him and preserve what she had with this loving, kind man. But something else deep inside filed her with a sense of purpose.

After a few minutes the pain lessened and she rocked making the still body beneath her jerk and tremble. With a smile Carol leaned down patting her father's head, but he was too far gone to respond. His skin had taken on a clammy, gray tone and he was cool to the touch. For a brief panicked minute Carol was sure that the girls had killed her father by drugging him too much. Then he uttered a whispered sigh, grunting out of his nose. Something jumped and quivered inside her and Carol barked out a shrill nervous laugh. But she couldn't take the pain any longer and she rose up, sliding away from the prone form.

Nervously Bernice inspected the sleeping man noting with some irritation that he looked exactly the same as he had before, his penis still red and hard, although now it was slick with some clear fluid and pinkish traces of blood. She cast a quick glance at her friend and shrugged.

Finally, one of the other girls moved forward. She seemed a lot more confident about how to handle him and Carol was sure that Chaney had done it before. This time her father's movements were more pronounced, he gasped and his hips bucked forward. Chaney smiled and slid off him with a cat-like grace that had Carol feeling vaguely hostile. It was her father; she should have been the one that received his seed. But Chaney was grinning and from the looks of her father's now relaxed body, she was the only one.

With a jerk of her head Carol got the girls out of their robes and back into their street clothes. Storing the robes in a crate they hurriedly got the man back into some semblance of dress and pushed his body out of the way, covering the glyph with more boxes.

It took them longer to drag Mr. Parker to the apartment than it had to get him down stairs. They were nervous, afraid of getting caught, but their luck held and they made it to the couch in the living room without dropping him or being seen.

Quickly the girls rolled him onto the sofa and filed silently out of the room. He groaned rolling onto his back then raised a shaking hand to his face. David Parker grunted drawing his knees up as his stomach cramped. Retching he leaned forward letting his head drop to his knees.

The trip from the sofa to the bathroom seemed to take much longer than he remembered but he made it. With another soft groan he unzipped his trousers straddling the toilet. It burned when he pissed and David looked down uttering a muffled shout when he saw the white flakes and streaks of dried blood on his dick. He was bruised too, in several places, as if someone had pinched him. A worried frown crossed his features; he couldn't remember Karen being that rough when they had made love that morning, he'd never been bruised before.

Struggling back into his clothes he leaned back against the vanity, and then turned and vomited into the sink. Running cold water he washed the stuff down the drain then splashed water on his face. His cheeks were hot to the touch, and he felt wobbly.

Sounds carried to him from the other side of the wall behind the mirror and David jerked, his daughter's laughter, light and childish. Suddenly the warm incandescent glow of the bulbs above the sink faded to the dim light of some dark place. David gasped, he felt the cold air brush his groin, and light girlish laughter rang in his ears.

Shoving the bathroom door open David slid into the hall back pressed against the wall. There was more laughter this time another girl and David flinched. He could see a face, far away, fuzzy but still recognizable. Chaney, his daughter's best friend. She was grinning, face coated in a fine sheen of sweat and David felt himself convulsing in orgasm. He moaned.

What the hell was wrong with him? In all this time he had never thought of the girls as anything but children. He had never laid a hand on one of his daughters in anything but fatherly affection and concern. Was he some kind of closet child molester?

David jerked as one of the girls peeked out of the door and smiled at him. Her eyes were hooded, shadowed and maybe a little too knowing. David cringed again. Now he was blaming the girls for his perverted thoughts.

David staggered to the balcony in the living room. The glass was cool against his cheek and for a moment David could almost pass off the images that had flashed in his mind as bad dreams, except for the physical evidence on his body. He had done something horrible, and the girls knew it.

Pushing the sliding glass doors back he stumbled wearily onto the balcony. The railing was waist high, wrought iron and he leaned over staring down at the alley seven stories below. His stomach cramped once more and David vomited into the wooden planter beside the railing.

Furtive movements from inside the apartment caught David's attention and he gasped. A shiver crawled the length of his spine making him shudder. With a grunt David hefted himself over the rail. The ground didn't seem so far away, and it wouldn't take long. The black painted iron was cold beneath his palm and David caressed it, then closing his eyes he let go.

Inside the apartment a girl's voice broke the silence, "Daddy!" she screamed. Suddenly Carol whirled on the taller girl and Bernice stepped back.

"You said we wouldn't hurt him," Carol screamed. "You killed him. I'm telling this is your fault."

Bernice retreated from the fury in the smaller girl's face then tossed her head. "No you won't. You're just as guilty of killing him as we are. You're the one who failed the goddess; you couldn't get him to do what he was supposed to do. You were first choice.

Chaney had to do it. And this is as much your fault as anyone of ours. He was your father. What we did to him was wrong, it was a crime. It's called rape and you did it too. So you just keep your mouth shut, Carol. We'll pick a stranger next time, not one of our fathers."

Carol closed her eyes, "We have to do it again."

"We have to do it as many times as necessary, until one of us gets a new body for the goddess to live in."

Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown walked into the alley watching as the Vegas PD kept the crowds pushed back. The DB was at the back of the alley, in the shadows but still plenty visible in the early morning sun. One of the beat cops had put an emergency blanket over his upper body, but the blackish stain fanning out around his head and shoulders left nothing to the imagination.

Stooping down Warrick gently lifted the edge of the blanket and winced. Half the guy's head was gone, crushed into jelly on the cobblestones of the alley. Most of his brain was scattered over the ground in clumps and lumps. Lifting his camera Warrick snapped a couple of pictures. The side of the man's face that was left revealed a good looking guy about forty with hazel eyes and dark brown hair. Involuntarily Warrick tossed a quick look over his shoulder at the younger man behind him, and cringed. The guy the looked enough like Nicky that he could be his brother.

Warrick followed the line of his friends gaze back down the alley to the shortish, cubby man walking quickly toward them. He realized that the newcomer was David Phillips from the Coroner's office and slid aside so that the other man could kneel down on the cold stones beside the body.

With a grimace Phillips quickly did a preliminary check on the body then tilted the guy over slightly. Making a quick notation on the clipboard he was carrying Phillips glanced at the CSI and shrugged, "No appreciably lividity, so he's been dead less than an hour."

Nick nodded, "The call came in about ten minutes before we got here, Rick and I were already out on a B and E and got rerouted over here by Grissom. The lady in that apartment made the call saw him hit the ground."

"Any idea who he is?"

Warrick shrugged, "Haven't had a chance to ask. But he came from one of the higher floors considering how much damage was done. Looks like he hit head first too."

Nick grunted again stooping over, "I called the building manager. She's on her way down to see if she can give us a preliminary id. If he came off one of the balconies chances are he lives here."

A woman appeared at the end of the alley and Nick rose to bring her over to the blanket covered body. She glanced nervously at the blood on the ground and then pulled away. Nick carefully tucked his hand into the crook of her elbow to keep her from running and she nodded at him. Warrick gently eased the blanket away only uncovering the intact portion of the man's face.

The woman blanched nodding, "That's David Parker. He and his family live in 714."

Phillips finished his preliminary exam and let Nick and Warrick finish their pictures. The two CSIs cleared up their equipment then went into the building to inspect the apartment.

Phillips waited for the coroner's hearse to pull up and watched as the body was loaded. He followed the gurney as far as his jeep then drove back to the lab.

David Parker's body was lying on a table in the morgue. He was stripped and draped in a clean white sheet. Phillips began a second examination while making notes in a file. Turning the body's head he checked the interior of the skull and made note of the amount of remaining brain tissue then carefully examined Parker's neck and shoulders. He found nothing out of the ordinary no tearing or bruising anywhere.

With a sigh he flipped the body up onto its side and began inspecting the back for wounds. Suddenly he pulled up short. There were marks on the body's back and buttocks as far as he could see. Leaning forward Phillips turned the lamp on and checked the marks again. He could see that they were not bruises, instead the black lines looked like paint transfer. With a frown Phillips picked up his notepad and began making a simple black-line drawing of the marks on David Parker's body.

When he was finished he gasped. The lines were part of a larger symbol, one that he was somewhat familiar with. The door to the examination room swung inward and quickly Phillips ripped the page off the pad folding it into his pocket. He turned as Gil Crissom walked up to the table.

Grissom offered Phillips a brief smile then nodded down at the form on the table. "What have you come up with yet?"

Phillips offered him a tight grin then shrugged. "It's just prelim, I haven't had time to open him up yet, and the toxicology and DNA reports are not back yet. But I've done a pretty thorough exam; I was just getting ready to wash the body. Barring getting results from the Tox reports I'd say COD is pretty obvious. Except that there are ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, so he was tied at some point before taking his swan dive off the balcony. There are a couple of abnormalities, too."

Phillips flipped the sheet back enough for the other man to view the corpse lower body. With one hand he motioned to the man's groin. "There are several bruises on his penis. They're injection sites."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, "Injection sites, what was being injected?"

"Well, without seeing the drug screen I'd say off-hand erectile dysfunction drugs. Considering the fact that I don't see having a needle introduced into the penis as a sort of foreplay." Phillips shuddered and now Grissom offered the younger man a tight smile.

"Don't discount it. I've run across some weirder things on the job."

"Yeah, but there was evidence of sexual activity fairly prior to death. Within the hour. There were also minute traces of blood in the vaginal secretions."

Grissom nodded vaguely already absorbed by the information, "Okay, I'll check with Greg for DNA and Tox screens."

Phillips watched as Grissom wandered out of the room, then be began the process of opening the corpse for autopsy. As he worked he made notes on the chart and took various samples carefully labeling them. It took him a little longer than he hoped to finish the autopsy and by the time he was ensconced in his small office he sighed. When he was finished he draped David Parker's body in a clean sheet and moved him to a drawer in the cold storage locker.

Checking his watch he calculated the difference in time between Vegas and South Dakota and decided that it was not too early to call, although the man he was calling was not known to be patient with being awaken early. Flipping his cell phone out Phillips went through his contacts until he found the number he wanted. The phone rang hollowly on the other end.

John Winchester heard the harsh jangling sound in his left ear and grumbled. Rolling over he collided with another body and jerked awake. Bobby was out cold, snoring softly in the bed beside John and the younger man gave him a rough poke in the ribs.

"Answer the damned phone," he growled. Bobby made a half-hearted shushing gesture with his hand and rolled over pulling the blanket over his head. John pushed the covers down and sat up, crawling over the other man to reach the cell phone on the night table beside the bed.

"Yeah, what do you want?" he hissed. There was a sharp indrawn breath on the other end and the nervous high pitched voice of a younger man.

"I might have the wrong number…" he stuttered.

Rolling his eyes John blew a sharp breath out of his nose then glared at the blanket wrapped bundle under his arm. "If you're looking for Bobby Singer he's too lazy to drag his ass out of bed to answer the phone."

"Yeah, uhhh…who are you?"

Bobby shoved John back and rolled over reaching for the phone but John leaned back shooting the other man a semi-evil grin, "This is his poor, abused, mistreated lover speaking."

"John!" Bobby squawked grabbing at the phone. Snickering John dropped it on the bed leaving Bobby to scramble for it. Casting the other man a mournful look Bobby settled back against the headboard draping the blankets around his shoulders to stave off some of the cold. He looked at the thermostat then glared at John knowing he hated sleeping in dry, hot air. The voice on the other end of the phone dragged his attention back to the conversation at hand. "Yeah…David what have you got?"

"Since when did you have a full time live in boyfriend?" Phillips asked with a snicker. Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Focus," he snapped at the man on the other end of the phone. Phillips ventured in again.

"So you said John…John who." There was a pronounced pause, "John as in Winchester?"

Now there was awe in the younger man's voice, "You're banging John Winchester...shit that's like the holy grail in the hunting community. Nobody has gotten into his pants in the last twenty-two years, in fact, there's a standing be that he lost his…"

"David," Bobby snapped. "He hasn't lost anything and will you just tell me what the hell you woke me up at 4:30 in the morning to talk about other than whether or not my 'boyfriend' has all his equipment?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. We ran across a DB this afternoon…"

"Well, you do work for the coroner's office." Bobby said snippily. Phillips coughed.

"This one has paint transfer on his back, in a real nice clear symbol."

Now Phillips had Bobby's full attention, and he could hear the other man grinning.

"What kind of symbol?"

"I didn't get it all, it was wider than his back, but considering I believe he was raped I'd say Cybele worshippers, a whole coven of them. I know that at least one of the women raped him, and I'll find out how many in a couple of days."

Nodding Bobby nudged John in the ribs with an elbow and the other man cursed at him from under the blankets, but he rolled over and pulled himself somewhat upright in the bed.

"Are you sure they're Cybele worshippers?"

""Not yet, I still have to see some of the tests. If the evidence does show forced sexual activity with multiple female partners then I'm willing to bet they are Cybele worshippers."

"Okay, we'll get on the road later. If they killed one man they're probably looking for other victims. I'd say maybe a resurrection ritual. Let me know what you find out."

Bobby dropped the phone onto the bed and rolled over draping an arm across John's thighs. With a sigh he shoved the other man down onto the bed grinning as John grunted out a muttered objection.

John shrugged the older man off, "Don't even think about getting frisky with me this morning."

"Aww come on, John…we're already up. At least I am."

Cracking open one eye John heaved a more dramatic sigh then flopped over onto his back, "Okay, okay have your wicked way with me, then I'm going back to sleep."

The second time that John swam to consciousness was to Bobby hobbling around the room, arms flailing as he tried to walk and scramble into his underwear. Settling on his back John watched, in ever growing amusement, as his lover bounced from one foot to the other emitting an impressive stream of curse words, some of which John had never heard before.

Finally, Bobby stooped legs tangled in the faded cotton boxers then tumbled over onto his head. He lay on the ground panting, and John leaned over the side of the bed grinning at the other man. Bobby flipped him the finger.

"That was your boy's engine I just heard pull into the driveway. So get your ass out of my bed unless you want to do some 'splaining."

John grunted stretching and lazing in the bed until he heard the front door jangle open as one of the boys let them into the house. Sam's voice ripped through the late morning air.

"Dad?"

"Back here," John bellowed and Bobby squawked. Rolling onto his hands and knees he tried to crawl behind the bed, but the space between the bed and the wall was too narrow for his hips and he ended up jammed in with his butt hanging out.

The sound of a body thumping against the door frame halted Bobby's vain attempts to hide. Dean snickered at the sight of his father lolling on the bed and the older man trying to crawl behind it.

"So Dad, you didn't tell Bobby that we knew that the two of you have been doing the wild thing?"

An hour later the four men were seated around the table in the kitchen eating breakfast. Dean leaned the chair back on two legs cradling a coffee mug in his hands. He glanced over at his younger brother smiling through the rising curls of steam. John flicked his glance between his two sons then motioned to Bobby.

The older man shrugged, "Your Daddy and me have a job that just came in. A cult of Cybele worshippers. I think they are probably trying some kind of resurrection ritual to form a living body for the spirit of the goddess."

Dean nodded finishing off his food and pushing the plate back, "Cybele worshipers how's that work?"

Bobby took a sip out of his coffee mug then pushed a book across the table at the younger man. Dean flipped the page back looking at the woodcut images of several young women clustered around the body of a naked man. Bobby nodded at the page.

"Cybele is an ancient Greek goddess a sort of earth mother and a fertility deity. Her followers often participated in huge orgies. Some of Cybele's followers were men who castrated themselves and took on female identities. Although since this guy was not castrated I don't think he was a follower more like a victim."

"Victim?" Sam asked cocking his head at the book. "What do you think happened to him?"

Bobby shrugged, "I'd say some kind of ritual to procure the goddess a human body. If she wants to cross over to the physical plane she'd need a body and the proscribed way is for her cult to kidnap a man and rape him until one of them gets pregnant and has a baby who is suffocated so that the goddess can inhabit the body."

Dean grunted, "So why's the guy end up doing a header off the balcony?"

"They screwed up the ceremony, and he got sacrificed as a warning? I don't know for sure but I'd say that one of the cult members didn't fulfill her end of the bargain and the goddess got pissed."

"Nice," Dean sighed, "so where are we going?"

"Las Vegas," John said, and flinched at Dean's grin. The younger man smirked at his father and John rolled his eyes.

"So Sin City, cool. After we dust the bitches we can work in a little gambling, maybe check out a few shows."

John frowned, "This is not a vacation. We are not tourists. One man is dead and I'm willing to bet that a couple of others end up on a slab in the morgue before we can get a handle on things."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

All the Wicked Little Things Pt 2

Fandom: Supernatural/CSI X-over

Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer Gil Grissom, Jim Brass, Katherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, David Phillips, OCs, (John/Bobby, Sam/Dean, Gil/Nick, John/OFCs (rape) Nick/OFCs (rape)

Ratings: FRAO

Warnings: M/M sex, bondage, rape, violence.

***Note***This is a dark fic, it contains angst, violence and young adolescent girls engaged in the sexual torture and rape of several adult men, including one girl raping her own father.

Gil Grissom rolled over onto his back listening to the steady breathing of his bedmate. The deep sonorous snoring was broken by tiny muttered phrases that made no sense, but they were music to his ears. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed what to others would be a nuisance. But this noise issued from his Nicky, the love of his life. It had taken Grissom too many long years to find love not to savor every minute of it.

A tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth as Gil slid across the bed wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist. Nick started, stretching and yawning before slowly opening his eyes. Gil knew he had a dopey look on his face just from the younger man's expression, but he was damned if he could do anything about it. Nick just laughed at him, and Gil tugged the pillow out from under his lover's head dropping him flat on the bed before pouncing on him. Nick grunted as the solid form of his lover flattened him then grabbed Gil by the arms, wrestling him over onto his back.

"You think you can beat me old man?" Nick snapped as Gil fought to free his arms. "Think again because I am indefeatable…"

"Indefeatable isn't a word, Nicky," Gil said with a mock frown. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Indefeatable is too a word, besides I'm trying to get some action and you're correcting my grammar. Come on dude!"

"It's indefensible…that's what you were looking for…" Gil groaned as Nick's strong fingers worked their way into his briefs grasping at his ever growing erection. With an evil leer the younger man gave a tug, and Gil's hips jumped forward.

"No man, that's what I was looking for."

Shaun Monsoor looked at the folded sheet of paper in his hands. On it was the address of one of his students. Carol Parker's father had passed away just a few days before and an announcement had been made at the school that morning. Shaun had copied the little girl's address from her permanent files and called her mother that morning offering his condolences. The mother, of course, had been distraught and Shaun was heartbroken for this family. Carol was a bright girl, good in math class, which had surprised him, and he had felt guilty about feeling that way, but something about her just set his teeth on edge. Maybe it was the luminous doe-eyes that seemed to stare straight into him that made Shaun feel so ill at ease with the child. Still he would not let that keep him from supporting one of his "kids".

Now that he was at the apartment building his stomach felt jittery. Shaun had never lost a loved one; his family had been blessed by good health and common sense enough to avoid drunken driving, drug abuse and other pitfalls, so he could not even imagine what it felt like to lose a father. He loved his father dearly.

Taking a deep breath Shaun pushed the door to the lobby open and walked into the dimly lit building. He found an elevator and punched the button for the seventh floor. Seven fourteen was down the hall, two doors on the right and directly across from the freight elevator that was a common fixture in these older converted buildings. From what he remembered this particular building had once been a hotel.

Hesitantly Shaun knocked on the door. There were a few moments of silence then the door swung inward and he was face to face with Carol Parker. Flinching Shaun stepped back, somehow he had expected her to be grief stricken but she only looked wary and maybe a bit expectant.

Smiling Shaun stepped forward.

"Hello Carol, is your mother home? I called this morning to ask if I could just stop by for a few minutes."

Carol smiled and the man felt his stomach flutter, was her look just a little too expectant? But he walked into the room when she stepped back.

"Mr. Monsoor, my Mom just went out for a few minutes to pick up pizza. You can wait in the living room."

"Maybe I should wait outside," Shaun said hesitantly but the girl was taking him by the hand and leading him inside. He was relieved to see that they would not be alone. Several other girls Shaun remembered from campus were also waiting in the living room. The tallest of the girls smiled at him holding out a can of soda.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Monsoor?"

Carol looked down at the slack features of the man sleeping on the sofa. Mr. Monsoor was tall and thin like her father, but he was younger as well. Maybe ten years younger, from his looks. And, like her father, he had dark brown hair, although she couldn't see what color his eyes were. Still there was enough superficial resemblance that she thought he could pass.

Bernice was standing behind her, looking over Carol's shoulder and that irritated her. True, Carol had started the cult when she found the book at the old book store off the Strip, but Bernice was moving in, trying to take over.

Taking a handful of the man's hair the taller girl tugged his head upwards. Carol flinched. She didn't like this careless cruelty that Bernice seemed to be falling into. Nodding to herself Bernice dug an elbow into Carol's side.

"I think we can move him. I put a lot more of the sleeping stuff in his soda too. So he won't wake up like your father did. We should be able to get finished with him before your mom gets home."

Carol nodded then motioned the other girls over. Chaney moved into place beside Bernice and the smallest of the girls, Joan went ahead in the hallway then sent word back to drag the man to the elevator.

They had gone down to the basement and cleared off the spot just like before. The ropes were in place. Shaun was not as heavy as her father and the five girls could move him with relative ease. Just like the last time Carol lit the candles and they laid Mr. Monsoor on the ground.

His clothes were loose; dress pants and a button down shirt, easier to deal with than her father's skin tight jeans. Chaney tugged the zipper down quickly grinning as they uncovered his bare groin.

"Hey, who knew that Monsoor was a commando kind of guy?" she snickered. Bernice grinned at her.

"You got to finish with Mr. Parker so you have to go last this time. It's my time to go first."

With steady hands Bernice took the vial of drug and the hypodermic needle injecting Shaun once slowly making sure that all the clear fluid left the needle. The girls huddled around dressing quickly in their robes while waiting for the drug to work. When it looked like the man was ready Bernice straddled him, grunting as she sank down on his erect length.

"Ouch," she hissed, gritting her teeth.

A nervous giggle ran through the assembled girls as they watched her rise and lower rhythmically. Shaun didn't move overtly and the girl had to stop several times until finally she grunted triumphantly, "He did it. I felt it."

Rising up she stepped back. Carol surveyed her teacher's body.

"Why is he still, you know…like that? When my dad…finished… it went away."

"I don't know. Maybe 'cause you dad was older or maybe I gave Mr. Monsoor more of the stuff. One of you other girls do it too, maybe it'll work again."

Joan moved closer to the young man's prone form.

"I want to, it's my turn. But I need that stuff, the slippery stuff."

Carol fished the tube of lubricant out of the bag that held their ritual articles, handing it over. Joan's face twisted in disgust as she squirted a dollop of clear gel onto the man's stomach then smeared it over his penis. She looked down at the slick, shiny organ, red and glistening then frowned.

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yeah," Carol hissed, "Go ahead, I think he'll do it again. It might take longer, at least that's what I read."

The smaller girl nodded raising her robe above her knees then dropped down on the man's body. She frowned again.

"He feels cold; his skin is cold and sweaty. This is gross."

Bernice moved to the smaller girl's side.

"What do you mean he's cold?"

Joan looked down at the still form of the man lying beneath her. Suddenly her face twisted into a grimace.

"I don't think he's breathing."

Uttering a shrill scream Joan pushed away from Monsoor's body then shuffled nervously toward her clothes. Carol dropped to her knees placing her hand on the teacher's chest. Eyes wide she looked up at the taller girl as Bernice stooped down beside her. Carol's chest heaved.

"He's not breathing. I think he's dead. How much of that sleeping stuff did you give him?"

"I don't know! Five maybe six pills. I didn't want him waking up."

"Well he isn't. We've got to get him out of here. What should we do?"

Bernice shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe if we dump him in the alley outside the loading dock the fresh air will make him wake up again."

Carol looked skeptical. "I don't think so. But we can dump him out there. It's close."

Standing quickly she began shedding her robe and pulling on her street clothes. The other girls followed suit. Finally they stored all of their belongings in the crate and rolled Shaun Monsoor's body out of the way as they covered the symbol on the floor with the almost empty crates.

Carefully the girls wrestled Monsoor's clothes onto his body. He lay still, skin going a blue white color and Carol was sure that he was dead. Her stomach clenched in fear; they had killed two men now. Why was the goddess so angry with them? They were new to this, just beginning to form a coven and perform rituals. Maybe they had started off too advanced, maybe she was angry that they were fumbling through this process of getting her a new body. Carol was determined not to have another meeting until they had done more research and found out just how much sleeping medication to give the next man so that he survived the ritual alive. She had never wanted to hurt anyone.

Nick looked up from the table he was standing beside as Grissom walked into the room. From the scowl on his lover's face he could tell that something had happened that had caught Gil's attention. Leaning back, arms crossed over his chest the younger man offered Grissom a grim smile.

"Something came in?"

"Yeah, I want you and Warrick to go back to that apartment building on Tenth. Someone reported another DB in the alley behind the building."

Now Grissom had Nick's full attention. "The same alley as David Parker?"

"No, a rear alley, near the loading dock to the basement. The guy was found behind a garbage dumpster when the trash collectors came by this afternoon. Phillips is already heading out there."

Warrick was already at the scene when Nick arrived. He took a quick turn into the alley then stooped down beside the other CSI. Warrick shrugged as he clicked another picture. Turning to Nick he grunted, "I called the coroner's office. David's on his way over. You know this is starting to get a little repetitive."

Nick nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm beginning to get a feeling that there is something really weird going on. I mean two DBs in the same location within three days? This is too much to be a coincidence."

Warrick knelt down gently turning the body's head. "His skin is cold, clammy and he has slight cyanosis. It looks like a drug overdose to me."

Nick shook his head. "Could be, we'll have to wait to see what the coroner says."

"Yeah, I see Phillips coming now. I got all the pictures I need for now. We'll go over the site after they move the body."

The body on the table had been identified from his driver's license. Phillips looked down at the young man lying on the cold steel table. He bore a striking resemblance to David Parker, although if Phillips looked past the blue/grey tint to Monsoor's skin he could see that the younger man would have had slightly darker coloring. Still the hair and eyes were almost identical. That disturbed David, not only because he was sure that they were dealing with ritualistic killings now, most likely a coven of Cybele worshippers, but it meant that the cult had a "type." And David knew several men, Nick Stokes among them, who were personal friends, who also fit the description.

His autopsy had been detailed and Monsoor had faint traces of paint transfer on his back as well, meaning he had been raped in the same place as David Parker, but, unlike Parker, Monsoor had not survived the encounter. Although the toxicology reports were still out on Monsoor David had seen the tox results on Parker, and he had flunitrazepam in his blood as well as three other drugs, papaverine, phentolamine, and prostaglandin E-1 all used to treat erectile dysfunction. And since no one had turned up a prescription in Parker's name David was willing to believe that the women who had raped him had the drugs. He was also willing to believe that Shaun Monsoor was going to have the same drugs in his body as well. Time for another phone call.

Bobby muttered a curse under his breath as he wrestled his cell phone out of his jeans. Casting a glance at the man driving the truck Bobby huffed a breath in a long suffering sigh. His shoulder banged up against the truck door and he was back to cursing again, finally directing a few choice words at John Winchester when the man let out a hearty laugh.

The pick-up wobbled around a curve and Bobby held on for his life. He threw an offended glare out the window at the tail lights of the Impala careering down the highway some five hundred yards or so in front of John's big black truck. What the hell was wrong with these Winchester men anyway? Bobby wondered. Did they all suffer from lead-foot syndrome?

The voice on the other end of the line didn't put Bobby in any better of a mood as the younger man he recognized hissed into the phone.

"Where the hell are you?"

Bobby huffed out a breath then snapped, "We're on our way. What happened?"

David cast a quick glance at the door. "We turned up another victim. He had paint trace on his back, not as clearly defined as David Parker but the same symbol. And this victim had the same types of ligature marks on his wrists and ankles. Also Parker's tox reports came back; he had several drugs in his system including erectile dysfunction drugs and Rohypnol. Also Parker had injection sites on his penis and this victim has one as well. Parker also had vaginal secretions from three female contributors on his penis. I took swabs from the second vic. I should have reports back soon, and I'll call you when I know if the second victim was killed by the coven."

Bobby nodded sighing.

"Yeah but I'd say chances are we are dealing with the same group of women."

Carefully folding the phone Bobby looked over at John.

"David says they turned up another man. Looks like the coven is hell bent of performing this ritual."

"We'll be in Vegas tonight. Call Sam on your phone and tell him to plan on digging up every article on the two deaths that he can find. We'll search the building tomorrow."

It was close to midnight when the two vehicles finally pulled into the parking lot of a small motel not far from the Strip. Dean got out of the Impala stretching his back and casting a mournful glance at the bright neon glow coming just over the horizon. He shot his brother a smug grin and gallantly bowed Sam to the stairs. They lounged a few minutes on the lower step waiting for their father and Bobby to come out of the rental office. Bobby was carry two sets of keys in his hand strolling along behind their father with a look on his face that the two younger men had grown so very familiar with. Dean snickered behind his hand and Bobby thrust his middle finger up in a jaunty salute that sent Sam off into hysterical giggles.

John failed miserably at hiding a smile behind his grunted curse then sighed.

"Have you two been drinking?"

Dean slapped his father on the shoulder and leaned around him grasping a set of keys to one of the two rooms before tossing them to Sam. John tried to intercept the keys.

"Hey, wait a minute! Those might be to our room."

"What difference does is make?" Dean asked snidely and John frowned at him.

Taking a deep breath Bobby steered the younger man to one of the two side by side doors and opened it with a flourish.

With a stern glare John watched his sons disappear inside the room. He stood beside the door for a few minutes until Bobby finally came back out and herded him into their room. The older man began stripping down looking at the bed with open relief, but John paced a few feet to the window. With a disgruntled sigh Bobby cast one more longing look at the neatly turned down covers and the soft looking bed. Rising, he walked over and slid his arms around John's waist leaning in to whisper against his ear,

"Let it be, John."

"How can I…you don't understand… they're my boys."

"They're as much mine as they are yours. I helped you raise them for twenty-two years"

Turning around in Bobby's arms John closed his eyes.

"Then how can you just accept what they're doing. It isn't right…they're brothers."

"Bullshit John! It's as right as anything else we've seen in along damn time. They're just doing what you raised them to do."

With a muttered growl John pushed Bobby back and away.

"I didn't raise them to do this. I raised them to be…"

"Your perfect little soldiers? You raised Dean to look after Sam, to give everything he has for Sam. And he's just doing it. Whether or not you like the way he does it, it ain't none of your business."

"They're my boys!" John snapped.

Bobby grinned, tugging the other man into his arms again. Leaning forward he pressed a kiss on John's angry, tense lips.

"They ain't boys any more, not by a long shot. They need this, John. They need each other and you need them. So what are you gonna do? Force Dean away from Sam? Because if you think you can you won't just lose Sammy this time, you'll lose them both. So I'm telling you let it be."

John groaned banging his head against the older man's shoulder. Wincing, Bobby held steady until finally, all the fight went out of John like water draining through a sieve. Casting a quick glance at the wall between the two rooms he surrendered and followed Bobby to bed.

Later that night Sam struggled awake. Dean was wrapped around his back and Sam shrugged his older brother off, panting as he shoved the blankets down. Sweat dripped in his eyes and his hair was plastered to his neck. Taking a deep breath the young man rose, stumbling into the bathroom. Muttering under his breath Sam ran the tap and splashed cool water over his face.

Walking back to the bed Sam paused wondering just what had awakened him until he caught the faint low, groaning sounds from the room next door. A frown crossed his features, these weren't the kind of sounds that Sam was accustomed to hearing from his Dad and Bobby's room and he knew that John was having nightmares again. Just as the sounds grew louder the youngest Winchester could hear the smooth, soothing sounds of Bobby's voice.

Crawling over Dean Sam climbed back into the bed he was sharing with his brother. It was nights like this that Sam wondered if he shouldn't just go back to Stanford; leave it all again. Although since Bobby and John had mended their relationship Sam had actually gotten along better with his Dad than at any other time in his life. Until he realized that John knew about him and Dean.

Now his relationship with his older brother troubled Sam even more. Not because he feared his father's reaction to what was happening between he and his brother, so much as their father was keeping quiet, holding his feelings in and it that was why John's nightmares had returned.

Dean rolled over, grunting when Sam's elbow came down hard in the middle of his chest.

"Hey what was that for?"

Sam grinned at him even though he wasn't sure that there was enough light or Dean was truly awake enough to see it. Shoving a knee into Dean's back it scooted the other man over enough for him to reclaim his warm spot then settled back listening to his brother's mumbled grousing.

The sun was already burning hot and it was only nine o'clock in morning. Warrick's breath hissed out between his teeth in a rattling sigh as he bent, examining the area on the dirty pavement where Shaun Monsoor's life had ended. There was no blood, no overt signs that anyone had died in that very spot and that puzzled Warrick because Shaun had been cyanotic, cold and clammy and although the toxicology reports had yet to come back Warrick was sure that the man had died of some kind of a drug overdose. Yet most of the commonly used street drugs caused vomiting, and except for an oily stain on the pavement there was nothing. So, maybe Monsoor had not died of some street drug?

He knew that Nick was somewhere in the alley behind him and still Warrick flinched when a meaty palm landed on his shoulder. He cast a disgruntled glare at the other man and Nick laughed.

"So, whatcha thinkin'?"

Warrick grinned in spite of himself then shrugged minutely.

"I'm thinkin' that Monsoor didn't die here. Look at the ground oil, and crud from the garbage, but his clothes were clean."

"So someone dumped him out here?"

"Yeah, I think so, and that means that he died inside the building somewhere. First David Parker takes a swan dive off the balcony and now this guy gets dumped in an alley. What's the common denominator?"

Frowning Nick propped himself against the wall, wiping a hand over his forehead. Quickly he glared up at the sky. Pulling a bottle of water out of the bag hanging at his side he took a sip then bent down staring at the ground at their feet. "It's the opposite side of the building from the Parker's apartment, but close to the loading dock…maybe he was killed in the corridor or the freight elevator."

Warrick shook his head.

"Too visible. The corridor is not well traveled but they still use the freight elevator to move stuff up from the basement."

"So the basement?"

Warrick nodded. "As good a place as any I guess, especially since David Parker was raped. The basement would be a dark, out of the way place for a sexual assault."

"So we need to search the basement and check to see if Shaun Monsoor was raped as well."

Nick followed the other man into the building and down the corridor to the freight elevator. They waited until the huge double doors opened and Nick punched the button for the seventh floor.

When the doors opened again they walked out into the hallway. The Parker's apartment was there, just a few doors down. As Nick stooped down he checked the elevator door for fibers. Warrick stepped passed him and moved to the door of the Parker's apartment also inspecting the frame again. They had gone over the doors to the apartment before but not the elevator.

With a grunt Nick pulled his water bottle out taking a sip before moving to the apartment door. Suddenly Warrick's cell phone rang and he moved a short distance away to answer it. With a frown he turned to Nick and waved the phone. Nick looked up.

"Hey Nicky, I'm going to have to go over to the lab. Can you finish up here?"

Nick grinned motioning to the still open doors of the freight elevator. "Well I don't know there's so much to process…"

Warrick shot him a look then stifled a grin behind the phone. Finally tucking the phone into his pocket Warrick walked past the other man to the main elevator to the main lobby. Nick watched him disappear down the hall then turned back to the freight elevator. He hummed tunelessly to himself for a minute before spotting a hair on the floor. Carefully Nick pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket and tweezed the hair out of the carpet fibers before dropping it into his bag.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention and when Nick turned around two girls were standing in the hall staring in his direction. When he looked up at them the taller of the two girls smiled. Nick felt his stomach lurch. Something about her toothy grin felt wrong to him. Flushing he bent over hoping that they would go inside, and when he looked up again the girls had disappeared into the apartment.

Carol leaned against the door, looking at Bernice. There were one other member of the coven already in the apartment and it was just a coincidence that the two older girls had come by. Still Carol took it as a good omen. Quickly she jerked her head toward the door, and the man in the corridor beyond.

"He looks an awful lot like my dad, maybe he's the one."

Bernice cocked her head, and then shrugged.

"Maybe, he does fit the description in the book, but Joan isn't here. Can we do it with just the four of us?"

"The book doesn't say that all the members have to be present every time. I think we're okay. And don't give this one so much of the stuff we don't want him to die too."

Bernice nodded grudgingly as Carol hurried back to her bedroom fetching her yellow silk bag. Carefully she drew out a small brown bottle. The taller girl took four pills out and walked into the kitchen. A large oak cutting board lay on the counter and the girl placed the pills onto the board then slowly began grinding them into a fine powder. Once the pills were reduced to powder Carol scraped them into a small pile and pulled a can of soda out of the refrigerator.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

All the Wicked Little Things Pt 3

Fandom: Supernatural/CSI X-over

Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer Gil Grissom, Jim Brass, Katherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, David Phillips, OCs, (John/Bobby, Sam/Dean, Gil/Nick, John/OFCs (rape) Nick/OFCs (rape)

Ratings: FRAO

Warnings: M/M sex, bondage, rape, violence.

***Note***This is a dark fic, it contains angst, violence and young adolescent girls engaged in the sexual torture and rape of several adult men, including one girl raping her own father.

Once again Many Thanks to Sioux_Sioux for the wonderful beta on the story.

Dean rolled over listening to the shower in the bathroom. The water stuttered to a halt and Sam appeared at the bathroom door uttering a deep sigh. With a wince Dean sat up shoving the rumpled blankets down so that his brother could climb into the bed, but Sam by-passed the not so crisp sheets in favor of pulling clean clothes out of his duffle. Tugging his boxers and jeans on Sam settled into a chair staring at his brother with hooded eyes. Dean grumbled under his breath but tossed Sam his most winning grin. Sure enough his brother rolled his eyes. Grateful for the reaction Dean rolled into a sitting position then slapped Sam gently on the thigh.

"What's the matter, Sammy-boy?'

"Its dad," Sam said tentatively. Dean winced again growling deep in his throat.

"Did you two have another fight?"

Shaking his head Sam pulled his t-shirt over his head then dropped to his knees scrabbling under the bed for his discarded sneakers. Dean leaned over peeking under the bed and catching Sam's eyes.

"Hey come on talk to me dude."

Finally, Sam surrendered and rose to his knees on the opposite side of the bed dropping his elbows to prop up his chin on his palm, "I think he knows…and he should, Dean. I'm not ashamed of us, of what we do. And I think it's about time that we just sat down with him and talked about this…whatever this is… that we're doing."

Groaning Dean slapped a hand over his eyes. "You're making my head hurt here. Since when is you 'talking' to dad ever a good idea? You know how he is. What on this planet makes you think telling him about this will come to any good?'

"I'd like to think that he's a reasonable man…"

Hissing out a breath Dean uttered a dry chuckle. "Yeah go right on thinkin' that, Sammy."

Sam flinched. "Dean, I'm serious."

"And you think I'm not? You know what dad is like when he gets his back up about something. He still hasn't got over that whole Stanford deal so why make this hard on all of us? We've got to get this coven taken care of and get back on the trail of that demon. Dad may be a lot more cautious about things since he and Bobby started this whole 'new lease on life, we're in love' kinda thing, but he won't let that demon go."

Cocking his head Sam smiled at his brother. "You really think that dad is in love with Bobby."

"He wouldn't be spreading his legs otherwise. You know dad."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "That's why this thing of his with Bobby really caught me by surprise. I didn't peg dad as gay or bi or whatever."

Shrugging Dean rose ambling to the bathroom door. "Hey you find love in the strangest places."

Sam watched as his brother tugged his saggy old drawers off kicking them at his duffle in passing and headed to the shower. He smiled softly. "I guess you do."

Nick leaned back against the wall of the elevator. He had ridden down to the basement and back up again. The lower floor was dimly lit and it was going to be hell to have to move crates and boxes around looking for a spot on the floor where both David Parker and Shaun Monsoor had been raped. Especially since neither of the men had any open wounds on their body. He might find traces of semen on the floor but even with the overhead lights on the room was dank and visibility was limited.

He settled back against the wall when the door to the apartment that David Parker had lived in opened. One of the little girls in the room poked her head out looking at Nick. He offered her a grin. Emboldened by his apparent good nature she came a little ways out watching what he was doing then offered him a quick, shy little grin.

"What are you doing?"

Making a brief motion with one hand Nick cocked his head. "Looking for fingerprints or other evidence that we might have missed when we looked at the floors earlier."

"Oh." she seemed to mull that over. "Did you find anything?"

"I can't tell you, sweetie."

"Oh okay. It's really hot in here since the air conditioning went off."

Chuckling Nick nodded in agreement. "Yep it sure it, and I think I left my water bottle down in the basement."

A frown crossed the girl's face. "You went down in the basement."

He nodded absently. "Yeah, we have to look all over."

"Did you find anything?" she asked smiling.

Nick looked up at the sharp tone of her voice but she seemed curious and he shrugged it off.

"I can't say."

Swiping at his forehead Nick sighed. The girl watched him mutely for a few seconds more then opened the door. A second girl popped out and Nick frowned hoping the whole bunch of them didn't get in the way. He half stood hoping to forestall any offers of help when the smaller girl held out a can of Coke.

"It's pretty hot; you want something to drink, mister?"

The room seemed to spin as Nick sat the cola can down on the carpeted floor. Frowning he tried to rise to his feet but he couldn't seem to muster the motor skills necessary to get his knees to unbend. Looking down he reached out toward the door. Nick's arm missed the door jamb and his hand slid a few inches on the warm, sweaty wall paper before he tumbled face first onto the floor.

Grunting Nick tried to heave himself up and over but the room began to spin again and he felt miserably nauseous until darkness overtook him. With a sigh Nick slipped into the warm cocoon of oblivion.

He was lying on his side with his back against the door and the hall reverberated with the sound of the wood thudding against his body. It took Bernice and Carol both to shove the door open and they climbed out the partial blocked portal scampering over the man's sleeping form.

Carol frowned at her friend then bent down pressing her fingertips to his throat looking for the pulse point just above the artery. She grinned when she felt the steady throbbing beat of blood coursing through him.

"At least you didn't kill this one. Maybe he's the one," Carol sighed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and jerking hard. Bernice followed suit and between the two of them they managed to clear the door.

Once again Joann stepped across the hall and slammed her hand on the button to call up the freight elevator. The four other girls clustered around Nick's prone form and half dragged half carried him inside. He was heavier than the other men and the girls strained against his weight. Still Carol couldn't help brushing her hand over his hair. He was cute, for an old guy. Maybe he would be the one.

The basement was cool and dark. They hadn't had time to come down and clear the boxes and crates away from the symbol on the floor. Maybe that had been lucky because the man and his partner from the crime lab would have seen it. Carol frowned looking at the sleeping man on the floor. They'd have to hurry because the other guy might come back.

"We don't have time for all of us to go. So we have to pick one."

Joann stepped forward. "We've all had a turn with the other men. So I guess its back to you or Bernice."

Carol smiled. "I'll do it. Let's get him ready before someone comes in."

The girls hurriedly undressed and slipped on their robes. Bernice tugged the zipper on Nick's trousers and worked the material off his hips and down to the knee. She took the bag that contained the drugs and quickly gave Nick the injection. Smiling she turned to Carol handing her the tube of lubricant.

When Nick was erect and slick the younger girl hurriedly straddled his hips, grunting as he slid inside her. She had grown more accustomed to this since the first time with her father. While it was still uncomfortable she understood how a man's body worked a bit better. Rocking Carol stared down at the man beneath her, his face was pale, a thin line of blue around his lips. He looked just like Mr. Monsoor and she gasped. Quickly Carol bent down pressing her fingers to the pulse point on his neck again and sighed. He was still alive, his chest working in weak gasps but he was still breathing.

Focusing on the task at hand she rocked a little wiggling her hips and uttered a shrill little cry when his body jerked inside her. He grunted, trembling then Carol felt the wet heat that meant he was finished.

His penis was still slick and red and there was some fluid dribbling out of him. Carol felt her stomach clench. That stuff was inside her; that was the seed to make a baby. She frowned. It seemed like adults went to a lot of trouble to do this, to get that little bit of fluid that looked like cheap dish-washing soap. But it was what the goddess demanded.

Quickly the girls disrobed and hurriedly put their clothes on. They rolled the man over pushing his body out of the way until they could cover the sigil once again then packed away the robes and bag.

John and Bobby stepped out of the truck in front of an apartment building. They were dressed in non-descript coveralls with name patches over the right breast, and a plain white patch that read "Ameco" on the opposite side. John was carrying a large, metal toolbox. Quickly John checked the address he had copied out of the newspaper on the slip of paper in his hand. It was the right building. Bobby sauntered around the front of the truck and leaned against the side next to John pressing his hip against John's leg. The younger man shot him a look then grinned.

"Feelin' a little possessive_, honey_?" John drawled mimicking the older man's accent. Bobby grinned then reached down trying to pinch a hunk of flesh on John's thigh, but under the coveralls the other man's jeans were too tight and Bobby grunted.

"You gotta stop weain' these jeans so tight, Johnny boy. It might damage your plumbing."

"My plumbing works just fine. I don't hear you complaining any old man."

"As loud as you holler in the sack, you wouldn't hear it if I was complaining." Bobby shot him a warning glance as several young girls hurried out of the front door of the building. The tallest of the girls skidded to a halt casting a lingering glance at John as he passed; Bobby shot her a quick look over his shoulder then shook his head.

"I think I got a right to be jealous John. You're attracting all kinds of attention and they're getting younger all the time."

"What are you blabbering about?'

"Those girls were sure giving you the eye."

John paused as he pulled the door open looking at the small group of teenaged girls milling around the front steps. He grunted then sighed, "You really do have it bad old man. Those girls are way too young to be looking at an old geezer like me."

Frowning Bobby followed John into the dimly lit building lobby. He cast a final glance behind him and regardless of what John had said Bobby was sure that the girls were watching John with more than a casual interest.

Bernice waited until the two men were inside before turning to Carol. Making a vague waving motion to the door she snapped, "Did you see him? He fits the description in the book."

Carol sneered at the taller girl. "But he was old! I mean Grandpa kind of old, even older than my dad."

With a sigh Joann jabbed her elbow into Bernice's ribs. "How do we even know if he can still…you know…do it."

Bernice shoved the smaller girl away. "I read that most men will be able to do it because of the drugs. That's what they're for; to make old guys be able to have sex. That's how I got them in the first place. They came from my Grandpa's medicine cabinet."

"That's really gross, Bernice."

Hefting the toolbox John quickly hustled to the elevators on the first floor. He and Bobby needed to be able to check the entire building for magic traces without being interrupted. Posing as maintenance workers would buy them time and give them access to the lower levels of the building.

There were two elevators going to the upper floor and on the opposite wall a large double door elevator that Bobby assumed was a freight elevator. He followed John to the doors of the larger elevator waiting patiently as the car came up from the basement. John frowned; the elevator should be on the first floor, at street level, unless it had been used recently. He turned to Bobby as the doors swung open.

Dean stood in the doorway of the old brick building looking over the sea of cement and dead grass toward the playground beyond. He and Sam were at an office of the Fifth Street Middle School. Sam shuffled a sheaf of papers out of a manila folder and turned to his brother. Dean grunted once as Sam shoved the papers toward him.

"The second victim, Shaun Monsoor, was a teacher here," he said.

Dean shrugged.

"And that means?"

Sam offered him a blinding glare, and Dean grinned.

"That by itself means almost nothing, but David Parker, the first victim, has a daughter Carol Ann, fourteen, who is an eighth grade student here. And Monsoor's body was found in the alley behind the apartment building where David Parker did his swan dive off the seventh floor balcony."

Now Sam had Dean's full attention.

"So I'm starting to see a picture here, Sammy boy. David Phillips said this cult was probably Cybele worshippers, something that Bobby seems to agree with. And Cybele worshippers were mostly female. Shit, are you kidding? We're gonna have to dust a bunch of girls who should be playing with Barbie dolls."

Sam nodded. "Looks like it. Dad is going to have a fit with this one. You know how he is about killing human beings, think about how he's going to react when those humans are little girls."

The elevator doors parted and John stepped into the cool confines of the basement. The overhead lights were on and he frowned. That was unusual, most of the time maintenance workers had to shut them off when they left to discourage unauthorized entrance into the area.

Bobby shuffled past John checking the floor carefully for footprints or signs that a body had been recently moved. He paused beside a huge pile of wooden crates then stooped down examining the floor intently. Suddenly he looked over at John waving to catch his attention.

"There're scuff marks on the floor over here. Like someone was dragged. They lead to the back of the room."

John hurried over to where Bobby stood then both men carefully began searching the floor as they moved deeper into the recesses of the basement. A thin slice of white light cut across the grimy white tile at the far end of the room. Both men straightened then hurried to the door. It was open, the latch thrown but who ever had closed it had missed the eye and the door hung nearly closed.

The alley beyond the door was bathed in bright sunlight and Bobby paused casting a quick glance skyward before he heard John's muffled shout. Turning quickly Bobby saw John squatting against the trash dumpster over the body of a younger man.

Stumbling to a halt Bobby held his breath as John quickly turned the body face up and grimace. "He's still warm, but he ain't breathing."

"I'm calling 911, you start CPR on him. I'll spot you in a minute."

Bending over John loosened the collar of the younger man's shirt then bent down. He blew two sharp puffs of air into the man's mouth, and then began chest compressions. He was still working on the guy when the paramedics showed up.

Just as John was about to give up he heard a faint gurgling sound in the younger man's chest and he jerked once coughing. The paramedics waited briefly while John moved out of the way before checking Nick's pulse and respiration. Smiling one of the men turned to John saying, "You did a good job, he's breathing on his own."

Nick struggled briefly then sank back as the other EMT pushed him down on the ground.

"Sir, just lie still, we're going to give you some oxygen and get you on a gurney."

Both John and Bobby stepped back giving the paramedics room to work, watching carefully as the young man was loaded onto the gurney. John nudged Bobby in the ribs and the older man surreptitiously pulled out his cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures before the gurney was placed in the ambulance and they headed out to the hospital.

Gil Grissom was in the lab when Warrick shoved his way into the room, closing the door behind him. Grissom looked up and Warrick waved his cell phone at his boss.

"Gil, they found another victim in the alley behind the apartment building. Two maintenance guys found him. The paramedics are taking him to the hospital."

Grissom nodded then blinked at Warrick. The younger man seemed far more distraught about this revelation than finding another rape victim in a city that seemed to have no end of them warranted. Suddenly Gil looked past Warrick at the closed door, and the vague blurred scene of the hallway beyond the rippled, frosted glass.

"Weren't you and Nicky working that case?"

Letting his eyes slipped closed Warrick nodded.

"Yeah…Gil, Nick is the victim."

Whatever he was expecting from Gil, the haunted shattered expression on his face was not it at all. Warrick reached out not sure that the older man might now topple over.

"Is he dead?"

Suddenly Warrick wanted to kick himself. Of course he should have told Grissom that his younger lover was not dead, but his overwhelming protectiveness toward Nick had lead Warrick to want to protect the other man's dignity even from Gil. Placing a calming hand on Gil's shoulder Warrick offered him what he hoped was a supportive look.

"No; Nick wasn't breathing when they found but the guy knew CPR got him going again. He's still unconscious but alive. But, Gil, he might have been raped."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

All the Wicked Little Things Pt 4

Fandom: Supernatural/CSI X-over

Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer Gil Grissom, Jim Brass, Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, David Phillips, OCs, (John/Bobby, Sam/Dean, Gil/Nick, John/OFCs (rape) Nick/OFCs (rape)

Ratings: FRAO

Warnings: M/M sex, bondage, rape, violence.

***Note***This is a dark fic, it contains angst, violence and young adolescent girls engaged in the sexual torture and rape of several adult men, including one girl raping her own father.

Gil stood at the glass doors of Saint Mary Magdalene hospital's Intensive Care Unit. The staff had rushed Nick up to the seventh floor as soon as Warrick had pulled the car into a parking place. Jim Brass was already at the hospital and Gil could see Catherine standing beside him. Warrick's hand was hovering near Grissom's arm and Gil was grateful because, truthfully, he was afraid he'd fall right over with that smallest touch, that slight connection to reality in what seemed like a totally unreal situation.

Nick was still unconscious when they walked in the room. Catherine moved from Jim's side almost instantly coming over to where Gil stood but he couldn't look at her. His attention was focused on the still form swathed in a blue hospital gown and white blankets.

Nick was still and Gil thought that he might go insane from that. Nick, his Nicky, was never still. Even in his sleep the younger man moved and twitched as if his body couldn't give up that restless energy that Nicky always seemed to possess. It had driven Gil to distraction when the two men had first started sleeping together, now after almost a year of cohabitation Gil found that Nick's restless nighttime movements amused him. He shot Jim a look hoping that he didn't look as bad as their friend. But something in Jim's sad, dark eyes made Gil think that he wouldn't want to see himself in a mirror right now.

"How…" Gil stuttered then paused, what did he want to say, _'How is he; How did this happen; How could anyone do this to someone I love so much?'_ Nothing seemed to come out and Gil felt the world slipping away.

Then Jim's big warm palm caught Gil's elbow, curved around the bare skin where the shirt sleeve was pushed up and Gil crumpled. A hollow sob broke from his chest and Gil was weeping like he couldn't remember weeping in years.

Catherine moved to Gil's side gently brushing the captain's hand away from their friend's arm. Gil turned toward the woman visibly struggling to pull himself together. In a few minutes he was able to nod and she smiled gently at him.

"Gil, I ran the rape kit myself and took all the photos. Nick has a large amount of flunitrazepam in his system. According to the doctor that's what is making him so sick. He just couldn't handle the drug. We're running the same tox screens as we did on the other two vics, but frankly Gil I think that we'll find the same thing. Also Nick has some bruising and two injection sites on his penis. So I think he was raped as well. I'm sorry as hell Gil, but you need to know what's going on."

Jim stepped aside as she hustled Gil into a chair at the bedside. Gil glanced as his lover's pale washed out face and sighed. This was going to be hard on Nick, hard on both of them but whatever he had to do to get Nicky through this Gil was willing to do.

"I need to find out how soon Nicky is going to be awake, "Gil said softly.

Jim winced.

"Yeah, I asked the docs, they don't know for sure yet. They're giving him some intravenous crap to leech the drugs out of his blood, but it'll take a while. Nick might not wake up until tomorrow."

Dean pulled the Impala into the motel where they were staying. He could see his father's truck in a spot just below the stairs leading up to the side by side rooms they had rented. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon and he wondered if the older men were in the room or roaming around one of the small bars across the street.

Sam threw the door open and trotted across the asphalt to the stairs. He was up to the second floor before Dean could roll out of the car. Pausing he watched his brother's lanky form as the younger man pulled to a halt outside of the door to his Dad's and Bobby's room them flinch.

Grinning Dean hustled up the stairs and slid onto to the landing behind Sam, blocking his brother's escape. Then he reached around the other man's body leaning into grasp the doorknob. Sam shot him a slightly panicked look, the elbowed his brother in the ribs.

"Come on…they're…you know, doing it. I heard Dad. God, I hate it when they do that, can't they be quiet."

"Now Sammy a man has his needs…"

"He's our father. He should be all stoic and loyal and brave," Sam stuttered to a halt as John's muffled voice carried through the door.

_"Oh God! Bobby!"_

Dean grinned wider. "And thrifty, reverent and clean? Are you talking about the same man who raised us?"

Shoving against Dean's chest Sam dislodged his brother enough to move away from the door. "Well, he should be the strong silent type. You know John Wayne…"

"With a boyfriend?" Dean snorted. Sam sighed.

Leaning against the door Dean listened for his father's voice again. This time John sounded more breathless, his voice tighter as if he was tensing up. Sam gulped at the images that produced in his mind and cringed. Wagging his eyebrows Dean gave the knob a quick vicious twist then rapped loudly on the door.

"Fuck off and die…"

Now his father's voice had more of its natural tenor and aggression. Dean grunted giggled madly. Slapping Sam on the shoulder he sauntered down the landing to his and Sam's own room yanking the key out of his pocket.

Slapping Sam's shoulder again Dean motioned to the diner across the street. With a quick glance at the door to the room the two older men shared Sam nodded.

"Yeah, we'll give them a little while then call. I can't see any other alternative to who could be doing this but some of the female tenants at the apartment building. But which ones?"

Dean grunted. "I'm hoping that it is not the Barbie Doll Coven. How would that look on our resume'? And Dad'll go psycho if we have to off a bunch of kids."

Sam nodded. "According to the legends that I researched we might not have to off them at all. All we have to do is stop the ritual before it comes to a conclusion and the spell the girls have cast to resurrect the goddess will fail. But even so doing that has some nasty consequence for the coven. They won't come out this unscathed."

Casting a look at his brother over his shoulder Dean frowned. "What do you mean stop the ritual before its conclusion? How is the ritual concluded? Two of the men died but from what we've uncovered that was accidental."

"I think the first man died because the girl's screwed up the ritual some way. The one that was supposed to receive the seed didn't perform and the goddess killed the guy as a warning. The second one, the teacher, died from a drug overdose. That was the girls' fault but they were able to complete the ritual before he died…"

"Complete the ritual?"

Sam nodded blushing, "Yeah the man has to…ejaculate. If the girls can't get him to finish they haven't collected seed for the goddess' new body so the ritual fails. The goddess goes back to whatever otherworldly place and waits for a new coven. But she doesn't go quietly and she takes her servants with her."

"So these girls just up and disappear?"

Nodding Sam pulled the door to the diner open and walked inside, "Yep, they go to serve her in her world. Vanish without a trace and will never be seen again."

"Can't say I'd be sorry to see them go."

Sliding into a seat Sam grimaced at the other man, "Dean, we're talking about a group of teen-aged girls, children."

"Children who have raped three men. One of the girls raped her own father for god's sake. If they don't want to pay the price for what they're doing they should have stayed out of it in the first place."

Sam slid into the booth. Dean lifted the menu. Quickly he glanced down the plastic pages before smiling up at the woman who came to stand beside the table. She smiled at him shifting her shoulders so that her boobs caught the reflection of the light just right shimmering under the gauzy white of her blouse.

Rolling his eyes Sam cleared his throat then did it again when he failed to deflect her attention off his brother. With an annoyed glare Sam kick Dean under the table then grinned when his brother gasped and cursed. The woman's eyes grew round and she shot Sam a cool glance.

"You want something, honey?"

Now Dean was grinning at Sam like a loon and the younger Winchester rolled his eyes yet again "Yeah how about a burger, fries and a beer?"

Dean sighed "You got no imagination Sammy; I want the barbequed pork sandwich and a beer too. Oh and fries. Do you have the spicy ones, and don't forget onions on the sandwich lots and lots of onions."

Sam flinched "Dude I am not riding in the car with you anytime soon."

When he was finished with his food Dean looked up. Bobby appeared at the door wandering across the room. Quietly he slid into the booth beside the younger man. With a grin Dean shoved a menu across the table.

"So where's Dad?"

Bobby grunted "He wasn't hungry so he decided to go back over to the apartment building a take another look around."

Frowning Sam dropped the last of his burger on the plate "Bobby, you should have called us first."

Dean nodded "Yeah we think that the coven is at the building. Sam is pretty sure that the coven is a group of teen-aged girls. They've already raped three men and killed two of them."

Paling Bobby slammed the menu down on the table, "But they might not go after your daddy. He's a little older that the other three guys."

Shaking his head Sam urged the other two out of the booth, "Dean get the check. Hurry we've got to get out to that building. Dad may be older that the other three men but he fits the physical profile."

Sam and the older man walked out to the Impala while Dean paid the bill. Sam leaned back against the passenger side door while the two men waited. "Look Bobby all the men are tall, medium build with dark brown hair and brown or hazel eyes."

"Well hell, Sammy, if it came down to it you fit that profile too."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one over there alone, Dad is."

Gil Grissom sat stiffly beside the bed gazing at Nick's face. The younger man was still unconscious but his vital signs were stable, and Gil was grateful for that. Catherine was all but dozing in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and although Gil was grateful for her presence as well there was no point in all of them being there.

"Catherine," Gil whispered and her head jerked up.

"I wasn't asleep," she mumbled stiffly and Gil smiled. Face flushing with embarrassment the woman offered him a sheepish grin in return. "I'm sorry, Gil."

"Don't be."

"I want to be here for you Gil and for Nicky too."

"You have been Catherine, but you need to go home and get some sleep. If I know anything Warrick or Greg or Jim will be by soon. I…we…won't be alone."

There was a shuffling sound and then a quiet cough. Gil froze and Catherine's eyes widened; both of them turned together and stared at the figure on the bed. Nick's soft brown eyes blinked and then he grimaced. Gil bolted from the chair sliding onto the edge of the bed and grasping the younger man's hand close to his chest. Nick managed a weak grin.

Catherine rose unsteadily and poured a plastic tumbler full of water carrying it to her friend's side. She stooped over offering it to Nick and Gil slid his hand behind Nick's shoulder propping him up. He gulped at the water then sank back, shaking and pale.

"Try not to move too much. I know that drugs hit you pretty hard," Gil said and for once there was no protest from his lover. That made Gil's stomach twist. "Should I call the nurse?"

"No," Nick said quietly. With a sigh he sat back, "I don't remember anything at all."

Gil took Nick's hand again, "Don't worry about that now."

"No, I need to talk to Jim. I was at the apartment building and there were some girls, kids watching me.'

Cocking his head Gil frowned, "Girls?"

"Yeah a whole slew of them," Nick blushed when his accent came out and now Gil smiled softly. Swallowing Nick continued, "A bunch of girls, six of them maybe. But they were kids Gil no more than fourteen or fifteen."

"Did they say something to you? Tell you something?" Catherine asked quietly pulling her call phone out a pocket. "I'm calling Jim."

"Do you remember anything else?" Gil cast a glance at the woman standing at the foot of the bed. Nick shook his head then winced. Gill quickly patted his hand.

"Not much, I was working on the floor, but I left my water in the basement. It was hot and one of the girls offered me a can of Coke. It was opened, and I should have stopped. But they were just little girls Gil. I didn't think…"

"Its all right Nicky, don't worry about it. You're here and safe and Jim will take care of it. He'll figure it out. So don't you worry about it."

Sitting his coffee cup down on the floor John leaned forward studying the rough weave of the carpet and sighed. It was too dirty and too worn to provide any good footprints. The cops that had gone over the place earlier had probably found the same thing. He shifted feeling the tension in his neck and shoulders, and wished that Bobby was here with him.

A sound just behind him caused John to turn, and he could see that the door to one of the apartments was opened, just a bit. Open just enough for a young girl to poke her head out.

He frowned raising a hand then motioned to the coffee cup sitting on the floor. The lid looked askew and John frowned.

Quickly he retrieved the cup taking a healthy swallow. The little girl poked her head out more. Suddenly the door was filled with little girls, all gawking at him with unblinking eyes. John drained the lukewarm coffee tossing the cup into the corner by the door, offering the girls a quirky grin. He shrugged when they just stared at him. Turning away John could still feel their eyes on him.

"Don't you all have to go to school or something?" he snapped. The tallest of the three visible girls shoved her friend out of the door then raked John with cold eyes.

"School gets out at two o'clock."

John sighed looking across the hall at the gaggle of little girls huddled in the doorway to the apartment. Briefly he wondered did a group of girls constitute a gaggle? He supposed they could just like geese. And something about the tallest girl in the group reminded John of a gander. Tall, slender and long-necked she had the pinched look of an old maid in the making. He flushed, ashamed of the thought.

Trying to ignore them John stooped low studying the ground for tracks, but his mind kept pulling him back to the girls. They hadn't moved were still watching him intently and that kept his mind in a whirl.

The smaller of the two lead girls was staring at John. Not with admiration or awe but with something slimier, like a woman assessing him from a barstool. Not that that had happened often, he didn't let it. But Dean had picked up his dog and pony show from somewhere, and John ruefully had to admit it was probably his old man.

John tried to shake off the uneasy feeling the girl's lingering stare was giving him. But every time he looked up, her big, soft doe-eyes were on his body as if she was trying to assess what he might look like under his clothes.

John hadn't given in to the urge too many times, but he had once in a while, when he was missing Mary too much. John hadn't had Dean's glib way, his showy grand gestures or smooth talking. His style was more direct and more singular. When John picked up a woman in a bar there was no surprise about how things were going to go. Not that he was aggressive or had ever forced anything on anyone. But there was no second call, not even the promise of one, and he had never stayed around to watch the sun come up. Still John mused he always made sure he left them with a smile on their face.

Now, there was only Bobby, and that thought made John utter a muffled snort of laughter. It was down right unimaginable that the one person, since Mary, to whom John had ever muttered the words, 'I love you', was Bobby Singer.

His mind was drifting. John shook his head. He felt disconnected, away from the dirty, worn carpets and the closed in hallway. Suddenly he tried to rise, but his legs just wouldn't unfold. Gasping he fumbled his cell phone out of this pocket and punched in the number for Bobby's phone. He could hear the older man's voice on the other end, but his vision was fading out. John toppled forward and his cell phone slipped from his numb fingers, sliding over the carpets and against the wall.

Bobby's cell phone rang just as they made it to the Impala. He shuffled it out of his pocket with a grunt. Sam pulled to a halt watching with hooded eyes as the older man, nodded brusquely.

"That was Dave Phillips in the coroner's office. He says that the cop that was raped woke up. Vegas PD is on its way out to that apartment building and we'd better get there first."

Nodding Dean slid behind the wheel of the car and cranked the engine up.

John came awake with a half-strangled groan. His arms were aching and his head felt like it was about to split wide open. He could see dark walls around him and knew he was in the basement again. Noise distracted him from the heaving of his stomach and slow dull pain creeping down his arms from the shoulder.

With another groan he shifted and panicked when his arms remained pulled tight above his head. John could feel the burn of muscle and the slick wet of sweat beneath the nylon ropes stretching his arms over his head. He jerked and the noise to his left halted.

Grunting he turned as much as he could and caught sight of them the same little girls in the hall upstairs and suddenly John's stomach rolled violently. He heaved turning his head so that he wouldn't choke to death on his own vomit. Still he felt miserable as white frothy, foul smelling crap clung to his chin and cheeks.

"Yuk," one of the girls said gravely, but she stepped into John's line of vision stooping down to wipe at his face with a clean white bath towel. He tried to summon enough presence of mind to speak, but whatever drugs they had give him kept calling him down to darkness. He fought against the soothing numbness.

"He's awake," the girl snapped at her friend, the taller girl, the old maid. Maybe not old maid John thought as she reached for the button of his jeans.

"Yeah, yeah I only had three pills left. Even if he remembers and maybe he won't, he won't go to the police or say anything. We can claim he came after us, that he's a child molester or something."

A kind of dull acceptance settled over John as the girls worked his jeans off his hips and down to the knee. He felt his face go hot when he remembered he wasn't wearing any underwear, but that didn't seem to bother the girls. The acted like it was nothing they hadn't seen before. And John choked then, his stomach roiling. The thin gauzy veil of drugged equilibrium was falling away and he realized that he must have puked up whatever they had slipped him. Anger began to pull at him, rouse him. John jerked at the ropes again, hearing the dull whine and slap of the nylon against the concrete floor, but not feeling enough slack to work his hands free. Shuffling around he tried to bend his knees push against the floor and make some slack when he realized that his feet were bound as well.

"Just be still, maybe you'll be the last."

John felt disgust crawling over him as she raked her fingers through his hair. He shivered involuntarily and she took it for interest and laughed. There was something so cold in her face, something that no child should ever have that John felt like gagging again. Steeling himself he was determined that whatever they did to him he wasn't giving in. He wouldn't get it up for them, not for little girls. That wasn't who he was. But the tall girl took that decision out of his hand when she scooped up a bottle and a hypodermic needle crouching down at his side. He flinched when the needle bit into his skin. And then he flinched again with the second injection.

John fought as long as he could even with the smaller girl petting him, stroking his hair like a rider calming a skittish horse. Finally one of the other girls came forward, small and pretty, a little china doll. But John grunted as she threw a leg across his hips and mounted him. He gasped fighting; jerking the ropes until his wrists bled and when he slid inside her it was all he could not to puke again. Oh god, he was having sex with a child.

Chest heaving John lifted his head up and slammed it back against the concrete. Lightening crackled behind his closed eyelids and he rolled back hanging limp in the ropes. The girl riding him leaned forward touching his forehead. Cringing she turned his head frowning at the smear of blood on the symbol.

"He knocked himself out. I don't know if he'll finish. I don't know if I can make this work the way it's supposed to."

Bernice grumbled shoving at Carol, "It worked okay with the others. They were unconscious and they still came."

Carol flinched at the word, blushing. "But they didn't do it on purpose. He's not responding and he's bleeding. What if he dies?"

Blind panicked colored Bernice's pinched features, "He's got to. He has to finish or the ritual isn't complete. You know what happens then, make him do it. Keep trying."

Two of the other girls were crying openly know milling around the bound man in confusion. Carol looked helplessly at her friends then rocked against the man beneath her. He wasn't as hard now as he had been, maybe the pain or the blood loss had worn him out, but she could feel that he was slipping out.

"Oh god what are going to do?"

The earth rumbled then, the building jerking and rocking around them. Several of the wooden crates tumbled and fell, splitting open, scattering their contents on the floor. Carol uttered a shrill little scream and pushed herself up and off John.

A second more violent jolt rattled the walls and the basement seemed to shift violently back and forth. The girls scrambled back, away from the prone body on the floor, then gasped as the concrete seemed to warp, and fold like a giant sheet of cloth. The symbol on the floor cracked.

An eerie blue light began pouring out of the crack as another quake jolted the building. The light swirled bathing the room in a sickly pale glow. The girls jumped way from the symbol tearing at their robes trying desperately to find their street clothes amid the wreckage of the boxes and crates.

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building just as the first quake struck. A stream of residents was pouring out of the front doors of the building and the boys and Bobby had fight to get inside.

Sam motioned to the stairs, "The apartment was on the seventh floor. Do we risk the elevator?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah for now. We've got no choice; we need to find Dad."

The doors parted on the seventh floor and all three men spilled into the hallway. From down the corridor Dean could see the door to David Parker's family's place and across the hall the doors to the freight elevator.

They ran the hundred feet or so to the doors. The heavy metal doors were gaping open, wedged on something in the floor. Sam bent down jerking at the small metal object, and grimaced. In his hand was the mangled remains of his father's cell phone.

"The basement," Sam whispered. Dean turned.

"We checked the basement earlier, "Bobby interjected but Sam shrugged him off.

"It's got to be. Dad was talking to you when his phone went dead before, right?"

Bobby nodded "Yeah John was pretty sure the coven was here."

Sam pushed the button to the lower level, "Then he was in the basement and they caught him and he dropped the phone in the elevator or he was in the hall and they caught him and he dropped the phone. One way or another we head to the basement."

Shimmering colors danced around the room, the girls froze in place as a figure rose up out of the broken floor. She was tall, iridescent blue and so cold. Carol dropped her robe stepping back as the figure reached out for her.

"You failed me little one."

"I…we…tried."

"There is no try you came into this knowing what would happen if you failed. You will serve me in my world."

"No!" Bernice cried trying to evade the grasping hands. But her body stiffened eyes rolling up in her head as the goddess caught her by the neck.

Carol watched her friend tremble and whimper as her body melted into cold blue light. Stepping back she tried to ward off the dark figure.

"We're just children."

"This was not child's play. If you could not accomplish the task set to you you should not have begun. There is a price to pay for everything in this life my darling, my price is just higher than most."

Screams rent the air as the girls drifted, faded into nothingness. At the far end of the room the elevator doors sprang open and Bobby, Dean and Sam tumbled out. Bobby was the first across the room, kneeling down beside the still, prone form.

Sam stooped over pressing his fingertips to his father's neck. He uttered a sigh when he felt the thin thready pulse.

"He's alive."

Both younger men set about cutting the ropes binding their father, studiously avoiding looking at his bared flesh. Bobby gently tugged John's jeans up when the boys had his hands and feet free. It took all three men to hustle John to his feet. He leaned heavily against Bobby as they headed for the rear door to the basement.

Bobby was behind the wheel of the truck waiting while Dean pulled the Impala around to the back alley. He cast a worried glance over at John but the younger man was lost in thought. Bobby frowned John looked too pale and drawn for his liking.

The Impala pulled slowly out of the parking lot and Bobby pulled onto the road behind it. The had to pull over briefly for the emergency vehicles to pass but no one stopped them or even looked in their direction.

Dean and Sam sat at the small table in the older men's room while Bobby shoved John into the shower. Both older men appeared freshly washed and dressed in clean clothes, although they were both dressed only in boxers and t-shirts. Dean flinched. It was a testament to John's state of mind that he let himself be seen in that state of undress in front of his sons.

Bobby pushed John down on the bed and jerked his chin at the two younger men. Sam frowned but rose patting his brother on the knee. Dean seemed unwilling to go, but finally surrendered knowing that there were some things that his father would talk about with Bobby that he would never open up about in front of his sons.

Bobby watched the connecting door between the two rooms swing firmly closed then leaned back against the headboard of the bed. Reaching across the bed he grasped John firmly by the arm and tugged. The other man slid across the bed without so much as a word of protest or an ounce of energy spent trying to shake the older man off. That made Bobby feel about as bad as anything he could remember in a long while.

"She was just a little girl, Bobby." John mumbled. He looked sick, pale and haunted in a way that had nothing to do with all the ectoplasmic crap they had dealt with.

"It wasn't your fault, Johnny," Bobby whispered running his fingers through John's hair. The other man looked like he wanted to bolt, wanted to get away but Bobby just wrapped him up tighter. "They drugged you and forced you."

Bobby didn't use the word rape, but John understood what he meant. "They were just children. How could they get involved in such a thing?"

Sighing Bobby slid his arm tighter behind John's back, pulling the other man closer. John struggled briefly them sank down, curling around the other man's body, holding tight.

"Some people are just too weak to resist evil. Even children want. Most people don't want to see it, but evil is out there and we have to do our best."

"Best at what?"

"Fighting all the wicked little things that come our way."

Gil sat in the hard polyurethane chair beside Nick's bed. He glanced at the younger man's silent face knowing that Nick was not asleep. He smiled when his lover finally opened his eyes. Nick struggled upright patting the bed beside him. Gil rose dropping the journal he was reading onto the seat of the chair.

"Jim went to the Parker's apartment building. He said there was an earthquake. Most of the basement was wrecked, and there are some missing children."

Nick frowned, "I remember. It was the girls, Gil. Six teenaged girls. They are the ones that…." Nick paused swallowing hard. Gil grasped his lover's hand twining his fingers through Nick's.

"You don't have to remember now. We can get through this Nicky."

Smiling Nick scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping at the hot tears on his cheeks. "I think that I need to remember Gil. I need you to help me. These girls took from me; I want what they took, back."

"They took the choice away from you. They used your body and they took your freedom of choice away, but they didn't take any part of you."

Sighing Nick dragged the older man's hand out of his lap pressing a kiss on the fingers gripping his tightly. "They couldn't take any part of me, all that I am belongs to you."

The End


End file.
